


When the World was a Blank Page

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Car Sex, Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1439911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In celebration of the publication of my novel (<i>Stories Beneath Our Skin</i> by Veronica Sloane is available on Amazon or Torquere Press), I've made this formerly for pay story free for my readers.  It's a short little number about a boy named Scotch, a snow storm, a car and first loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the World was a Blank Page

 

The car's engine rumbled around them, the ancient heater coughing out lukewarm air. The world outside was a blank page, the sky as white as the snow-laden park below. Jimmy's melancholy music poured syrup out of the tinny speakers until all of time slowed to a dreamlike pace.

"We could be anywhere," Jimmy whispered, the cold point of his nose touching Scotch's ear. "The only people left in the world."

"Very poetic," Scotch huffed. "Can we go somewhere warm now?"

"No." Jimmy scooted further over the bench seat, the vinyl creaking in protest. "I like it here."

"Right. Nothing says romance like the end of the world."

"You're such a barrel of joy." Jimmy pulled the glove off his right hand with his teeth. Then he pressed the bare warmth of his fingers over Scotch's cheek, tipping his head towards him. "Aren't you happy? Start of a new year. Can't find a more optimistic day than January first."

"I'm too scared to be happy." Scotch closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to the corner of Jimmy's smile. "I don't get to have things like this."

"Like what?"

"Like you."

"Oh, shut up already." Jimmy laughed and turned the glancing chaste kiss into something deeper, hungrier. Fat flakes of snow fell sloppy and wet against the windshield.

They had met on a night this bitter cold.

***

Scotch was sitting on the curb outside the house he shared with two drunks, a bottle of beer caught between his thighs. Inside, a party raged, his bedroom invaded by an ardent couple. He had recognized only a handful of faces in the crowd and was resigned to spending the night sandwiched on the couch with strangers or frozen in solitude outside.

"Hey." A shadow fell across his legs. "Don't you live here?"

"Yeah." He took a drink. "Bathroom is the third door on the left."

"No, I mean thanks, but no. Are you Scott?"

"Scotch, like the drink," Scotch corrected, finally looking up. Even in the weak porchlight, he was beautiful, all long angles and artfully mussed dark hair. He was dressed only in a long sleeved shirt and painted on jeans that described the lean, hard body beneath them in detail. Every inch of him had to be freezing. "You should go inside. It's cold out here."

"Yeah, but it's boring in there. I'm Jimmy," he said as he sat down practically on top of Scotch. "I live across the street."

"Oh. Hi." Scotch lifted his beer to his lips, ignoring the line of warmth where Jimmy pressed against him.

"So why are you hiding outside?"

"Not my party."

"You like the neighborhood?"

"Not really." Scotch gestured outwards, encompassing the half-frozen yard and the broken blacktop of the sidewalk. "It's a place to stop, you know? Save up a little. Move somewhere else."

"Where's somewhere else?" Jimmy plucked the beer out of Scotch's hands, taking a sip then passing it back. Scotch stared dumbly at it. "Sorry. Left mine inside."

"Oh. Okay." Scotch set the bottle back down between his legs, trying not to think about Jimmy's mouth wrapped around the rim. "I don't know, really. I'd like a little house. Enough for me and maybe a dog. Just somewhere that I don't have to worry about getting mugged if I want to go for a walk."

"You dream big."

"Not all of us can be rocket scientists that live in Malibu."

"Yeah, but don't you ever wish you were?"

"Not really." Scotch frowned. "I want to be content with something I can get. Why? You got a big dream?"

"Sure. Dozens." Jimmy leaned back on his elbows. "The world is this big sprawling place filled with things to do."

"That's vague." Scotch lifted the beer to his lips, forgetting until he took a sip where the bottle had been. He thought that he could taste Jimmy there, something a little salty and a little sweet. Probably just his imagination.

"You want an example?" Jimmy's grin was aimed at Scotch like a weapon. "I want to break the Guinness World Record for largest collection of lost keys."

"Uh, really?"

"Sure. I love them. Got dozens already, but I figure I'll wait until I have a really obscene amount and then apply for the record."

"Why keys?"

"I found one on the sidewalk a few years ago. Old fashioned sort of thing, no idea if it ever opened a door or if was just decorative. I liked having it in my pocket though. Then my mom dragged me into an antique shop and I found a whole drawer full of them." He shrugged. "It sort of became a thing after that. People give me ones they find, buy unusual ones for me for gifts. I keep them in a wooden box."

On their first real date, Jimmy produced the box. It was antique, but it was plain and the edges were worn. When Scotch opened it, he expected a mound of dirty junk all jumbled together. Instead, he found a beautiful array of gleaming metal with each key settled like a precious gem against the green velvet. He could easily imagine Jimmy picking them out one by one, polishing them with care and nestling them into their own space. It had taken Scotch's breath away.

***

"Hey, hey!" Jimmy kissed the tip of Scotch's nose, "Come back to me."

"I'm here." The car rumbled on, calling him back to the present.

"Where'd you go?"

"Thinking about when we met."

"Yeah?" Jimmy squirmed and heaved, getting his leg over Scotch's lap to settle there. "Then why do you look sad?"

"Dunno. Maybe that's just my face."

"It isn't." Jimmy kissed him, once, twice, testing for something unknown. "You smile more than you frown."

"That's a recent development."

It took a little doing, but Scotch was able to get his hand under Jimmy's bulky coat, thick sweater and undershirt. He palmed the small of Jimmy's back, the velvet of the skin there a revelation all on its own.

"Do you think we'll be here next year?" Jimmy asked.

"Hm?" Scotch was lost in the skin under his palm and the rich smell of pine lingering in the folds of Jimmy's coat.

"I mean, can you imagine next New Year's Day? Will we get in the car and drive out to this park?"

"Why would we?" He tilted his head back to watch Jimmy's face. It was curiously blank, as if Jimmy were reading off a cue card.

"To remember this. Today. That's what people do on anniversaries, isn't it?"

"It isn't our anniversary. Unless six weeks is a new milestone no one told me about?"

"It could be one." Jimmy fished in his pocket and drew out a foil square. "I mean, it's cool about going slow. I know you're kind of new to all this, but I thought this would be a good start. Here and now, you know?"

Their combined body heat and the car's weak efforts had brought the temperature up a little. It wasn't what Scotch had imagined for his first time, but then it had never been something he put a lot of thought into.

"I--" He let his head drop against the seat, heart pounding erratically in his chest.

"I like you," Jimmy confessed. "I think maybe I could love you."

"You don't have to say that. I'm not some prom queen that needs promises before giving it up." The words came out more harshly than he intended, but he couldn't take them back. Couldn't say he was sorry.

"I know that." Jimmy reached out, put his palm to Scotch's cheek again. "Frankly, you'd make a hideous girl."

"Gee, thanks." He snorted, but turned his face into the touch to drop a kiss in Jimmy's palm. "What if I'm awful at this?"

"It's your first time, you're supposed to be awful."

"What was yours like?"

"My first time?" Jimmy dropped his hand to Scotch's shoulder. "It's not that interesting."

"Tell me anyway."

"His name was Craig." Sitting back a little, Jimmy kept his warm hazel eyes locked on Scotch's face. "I met him at this club that I was too young to really be at, but my friends had sort of snuck me in. He danced with me, told me I was hot and asked if I wanted to go home with him. I said yes."

"You just went home with a stranger?" Scotch grasped at one of Jimmy's fine-boned wrists, tried to imagine him smaller still, too young to know better. He could conjure it up far too easily.

"Life is short, babe. He was good looking and interested. It was all right. He had a nice apartment, a big bed with soft sheets. There were worse places." Jimmy bit at his lip, catching a bit of dried skin. Scotch liked the drag of chapped lips against his own. Even more, he liked this small sign of imperfection. "He wasn't very gentle with me, I guess. But he was nice enough about it. Good enough that I wasn't scared to try it again or anything. Some guys have some real horror stories."

"So you want this to be my story?" Scotch asked, eyes glued to Jimmy's lips now. "Here in your car with it freezing outside?"

"It's a little romantic." Jimmy grinned." And if you hate it, you won't have shitty memories tied up with your bed. Plus, no nosy roommates to interrupt at a bad moment."

"You really thought about this."

"Don't sound so surprised."

"Okay," Scotch decided.

"Okay?" Jimmy's grin widened. "Really?"

"Yeah. Back seat?"

They crawled into the back in a flailing pile of limbs, falling against the worn springs and vinyl. Jimmy wound up sprawled over Scotch, kissing him with intent. With a sharp tug, Jimmy's other glove was discarded and both of his hands set to work on peeling Scotch from his thick coat.

"We should just do this all at once." Scotch said with a laugh as his arms got tangled in the sleeves. "Or I'm going to wind up in the footwell."

"Where's the fun in that?" But Jimmy let Scotch up enough to peel off his scarf, sweater and t-shirt.

Scotch's skin prickled in the cool air. He hunched in his shoulders for warmth, watching appreciatively as Jimmy took his turn discarding winter layers to reveal his pale skin with its constellation of freckles.

"Shoes." Jimmy reached down and pried Scotch's sneakers off.

"Leave my socks on."

"Just socks? Not a hot look."

"It's freezing in here." Scotch reeled Jimmy in by his waistband, fingers busy on the button fly. "And I may not know much, but I'm pretty sure if you're looking at my feet then we're doing it wrong."

"Oh ye of little imagination," Jimmy teased. The socks stayed, but Jimmy's pants and underwear fell to the wayside. Scotch slid his hands down to cup Jimmy's ass, squeezing a little. 

"I can imagine a lot of things," Scotch said into a light kiss.

"Mmm," Jimmy sighed. "Maybe next time. You're center stage today."

"Yeah, I got the memo." Scotch let his hands dance up Jimmy's spine. "Yet I'm still wearing pants."

"I was trying to ease you into it."

"Well, don't." Lifting his hips, Scotch hooked his fingers into the waistband of his jeans. "Too slow and I'll have time to chicken out."

"This isn't a dare or something. You can say no."

"I'm saying yes." He pushed until Jimmy got the picture and moved enough to help Scotch wiggle out of his pants and underwear. "I'm just really good at talking myself out of things I want."

"Haven't talked yourself out of me yet."

The vinyl slid cold and sticky against Scotch's back. He lay flat on the seat. Freezing air snuck through the seal of the door, trailing over him like icy fingers. Jimmy loomed above him, momentarily in shadow as he fished for something on the floor.

"Should I get on my stomach?" Scotch asked as Jimmy produced a thin tube of lubricant. He tried not to think about Jimmy walking into a store and asking for it, or worse, already knowing where to find it. He would have a swagger as he came to the register, smacking it down along with a box of condoms. Maybe he made small talk with the cashier.

"Hands and knees, I think." Jimmy kissed him again. "That's the easiest."

"Just keep talking to me." Scotch turned on the seat, the squeak of the vinyl somehow the worst kind of embarrassment.

"You want me to talk dirty?" Jimmy rubbed soothingly at the small of Scotch's back. The warmth had gone from his fingertips, but his palm still felt blazingly hot.

"I don't care what you say. Remind me that you're there." A blush burned over Scotch's cheeks and he was grateful that he could bury them in his crossed arms. The cold only added to his feeling of exposure.

"Any other likely candidates for this position I should know about?"

"No," Scotch bit off, not amused by the joke. "I don't... never mind."

"It's okay. Tell me."

One of Jimmy's hands, slim long fingers that had become well acquainted with Scotch's dick, spread Scotch wide. The pad of one thumb, smooth with lube, circled Scotch's hole. Nervous shocks of warmth fluttered through him to gather in his stomach.

"If you're quiet, it's like you're not there. Like I'm imagining you."

"Your imagination is that good?"

"Better." Scotch bit back a gasp as the first joint of one finger slid into him. "How do you think I managed not to lose my mind being single this long?"

"It didn't seem to bother you. Being alone was more like a badge of honor."

"It sucked," Scotch bit out as the pressure increased. "But it was safe."

"I'm not safe." Jimmy pushed a little more and Scotch had to let out a long shuddering breath. "How does it feel?"

"Weird. Wrong a little."

"Should I stop?"

There was a crack in the vinyl beneath Scotch's face. He stared at it then shook his head. "I'm good, keep going."

"Christ, you're gorgeous." Jimmy retreated a little, pulling all the shocky raw feelings with him. "If it was just the two of us left in the world, I wouldn't care. I could do this for the rest of my life."

"We haven't even started yet," Scotch groaned. "Not really."

"I know it's going to be good." With the slightest hesitation, Jimmy returned with two fingers and Scotch bit into the meat of his forearm. "I swear."

"Hurts," he whimpered, and for his efforts got Jimmy's free hand stroking down his spine.

"It's going to, a little. Good things usually do at first."

With shaky breath after shaky breath got Scotch through the first intense minutes of Jimmy fingering him open. Jimmy kept talking to him, dirty nonsense now instead of thoughtful complete sentences. The words were enough, real and filthy.

"Think you can take me now?" Jimmy asked at last, sliding free with a squelch.

"No." Scotch felt flayed open and raw. "But let's try it anyway."

"You sure?" Jimmy bent down to kiss Scotch's left shoulder where a pale birthmark lay. "I can stop."

"Yes, very unsafe." Scotch managed a laugh. "Very dangerous man."

"Do you want me to stop?" The demand was clear this time, no room for argument.

"I want you to try already and stop building it up."

"You could sound a little more excited."

"Pain doesn't thrill me." Scotch shifted uneasily, awareness of his awkward positioning reawakening. "I want to try, though. Please."

"C'mere." Jimmy tugged Scotch up until they were pressed together, back to chest. "This is good, I promise."

"Okay." Scotch swallowed hard.

"Spread a little."

It was awkward on the uneasy perch of the backseat, but Scotch managed it, steadied by Jimmy's hand pressed flat against his chest.

"Ready?"

"Yeah." Scotch could feel the brush of Jimmy's breath over the back of his neck, each exhalation stirring the fine hairs there.

The first push did hurt, a lip-biting, awful kind of hurt that roiled in Scotch's belly. Jimmy stilled, thighs trembling. Like the tide rolling out, the pain retreated, leaving behind only an aching memory and the beginning of something new.

"Oh." Scotch shifted experimentally.

"Oh?" Jimmy kissed the curve of Scotch's shoulder.

"Hold on." He lifted himself a little. The first seed of possible pleasure started low in his belly. "Huh."

"You sound like you're reading a newspaper." Jimmy teased. Then he withdrew fractionally and pushed back in.

"Do that again," Scotch demanded.

"This?" Jimmy rocked in and out, a little more this time.

"Yes." The seed burst to life, pushing hot want through every nerve. "Fuck... that's..."

"Good?" Jimmy laid another three kisses over Scotch's shoulder.

"Keep going."

The rhythm Jimmy found was languorously smooth. There was none of the frantic rush and push that Scotch had pictured his first time having. Like it had been for the first handjob on their third date, shared against the door to Jimmy's bedroom and their first kiss still tingling on Scotch's lips. Like the first blowjob, Jimmy dropped to his knees in an empty movie theater over Scotch's hissed protests.

There was nothing rushed or public about this. They had both lapsed in silence, the rumbling of the car's engine mixing with the soft music to mask the sound of heavy breathing. Scotch's world had narrowed down to the slow slide of Jimmy's cock, Jimmy's mouth on his shoulder and Jimmy's hands bracketing his waist. Almost reluctantly, Scotch gripped his own aching erection. He stroked himself slowly, savoring the drag of his own calloused touch in counterpoint to Jimmy's rolling hips.

Gradually, Jimmy's kisses turned to needier nips and his pace quickened. The blissful steady waves of pleasure melted into groaning need. Scotch sped his hand, heartfelt moans falling from his throat without permission. He came in a blaze, eyelids slamming shut and white noise buzzing in his ears. Limp and satisfied, he rode out Jimmy's last few stuttering strokes.

"Yes..." Jimmy breathed out across Scotch's neck, buried deep as he finished.

Only the palest light pierced the thick covering of snow. In the near dark, they fumbled apart to wipe futilely at their sticky skin with fast food napkins. Their coats became pillow and blanket, their limbs tangled tight together on the makeshift bed.

"Was it all right?" Jimmy whispered, shivering and pushing impossibly closer.

"Do you know when you have a bad cut?" Scotch brought Jimmy's hand to his mouth so he could kiss the hard juts of his knuckles. "When it heals, it itches and scabs up. But when you pull the scab off, everything underneath is new. And sensitive. Everything feels a thousand times more intense."

"So sex is pulling off a scab?" Jimmy asked with a laugh that Scotch could feel all the way through him.

"Sex is being new. Fresh," he corrected absently. "We shouldn't stay here much longer."

"Why not?"

Because the gas would run out eventually. Because they would get stuck here before long, wheels entrenched. Because they would get hungry and thirsty. Because they needed to shower. Because nothing good could last.

"Fuck it." He turned to draw a kiss from Jimmy, who sighed contentedly. "We're the last two people in the world. We can stay here forever."

They didn't, of course, but that's how Scotch liked to remember it: an endless snowy afternoon at the beginning of the new year.


End file.
